


wherever you go

by anopenletter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopenletter/pseuds/anopenletter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are fucking candles," Brad says. "You son of a bitch." </p><p>"Also rose petals," Vinny says, putting the champagne on the bedside table, between two candles and a vase of roses. "Told your parents I'd take care of you, remember?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	wherever you go

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 1000th game, Brad Richards! 
> 
> Takes place before the start of the 2000-2001 NHL season, when Brad Richards [moved in](http://sports.espn.go.com/dallas/columns/story?id=4604182) with Vincent Lecavalier.

"Your house is too fucking big," Brad says. His eyes are huge.

"So PEI," Vinny says, wrapping an arm around Brad's shoulders, pulling him in to kiss the side of his face. "Missed you, kid."

"You saw me all summer," Brad says, crinkling his nose, but he lets Vinny do it. He always lets Vinny do it, that's why they're good.

"Different now," Vinny says. He can't keep himself from smiling, feels it spread wide across his face. "Now you're on my team."

"Our team," Brad corrects.

“Sorry you couldn’t be drafted in the first round too,” Vinny says.

Brad punches him in the side. “Hey,” he says.

Vinny rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, and messes up Brad’s hair in retaliation, smiling. Brad tries to twist away from it half-heartedly but lets Vinny hold onto him anyways, doesn’t really fight it. “Like you weren’t enjoying setting all kinds of records in the Q, you loser.”

“Shut up,” Brad says, flushing a little. Vinny always made sure to email him about it during the season; he’d decided early on that he would call Brad and talk through the games. It was easy enough to check the scoresheet after, even if Brad said he didn’t want to be a distraction.

“Anyway,” Vinny says. “Come on, look at the rest of the house, it’s not just the foyer.”

“You have a _foyer_ ,” Brad says. “Vinny.”

Vinny grins. "I'm super cool," he says. "I'm the best."

Brad fits himself against Vinny's side. "You're a weed," he says. "Is there food? Can we get food? Let's get a pizza."

Vinny ruffles his hair. "You never stop eating," he says. "Lucky I agreed to keep you, eh?"

"Please," Brad says, "like anyone else could live with your mess. Food?" He tips his face up, eyes bright.

Vinny laughs, can't help it. Dips his head to brush a kiss across Brad's mouth. "God," he says. "It's so good you're here."

Brad nips at his lower lip. "Food," he says, "I'll go back to Rimouski, they know how to feed me."

Vinny slips his hand under Brad's t-shirt, tweaks a nipple, smiles at the way Brad gasps. "Kitchen," he says. "I got you a cake and everything."

"Ooh," Brad says. "Fancy."

“Yeah,” Vinny says. “I pulled out all the stops.” He skims his hand around, feels the muscle on Brad’s side, his back. It’s new, the result of summer training. Vinny thinks he likes it.

“Did you get champagne too?” Brad asks, presses up closer against him. “If you’re really trying to pull out all the stops.”

Vinny makes a face. “Got someone on the team to buy me some,” he says. “It’s in the fridge.”

“Fancier,” Brad says, laughs when Vinny kisses him to shut him up. But Brad’s _here_ , solid beneath his hands, still a little shorter than him, the same way it’s been since they were fourteen, and Vinny backs him up against a wall and kisses him for real this time, lips parted, his hand in Brad’s hair.

They’re both panting when they come up for air, Brad’s hair messed up, falling into his face. Vinny pushes it away, tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

“There’s an upstairs to the house too,” he says, slips his hand down to Brad’s ass. “You’ve still only seen the entryway.”

Brad raises his eyebrows. "Trying to get me up to your room?"

Vinny laughs. "Don't think I've needed help with that since we were fourteen," he says. Palms Brad's ass, squeezes.

Brad yelps, rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says. "Show me my room, I guess."

"Not that you're ever gonna sleep in it," Vinny says. "I put your PEI posters up in my room when I moved in."

Brad blinks, twice. Leans up and kisses Vinny. "Thanks for having me," he says, all Maritimes. Vinny is so fucking glad he's here.

"I'll bring the champagne up though," Vinny says. "You know. In case." Vinny's been waiting for this a long fucking time, okay? He's made _plans._

“Of course,” Brad says, his face innocent. “Just in case.”

Vinny just-- it’ll be nice to be on the same team again. Two years without that has been long enough, thanks.

“Come on,” he says instead. “The kitchen is over this way.” He laces their fingers together, walks briskly towards the kitchen, which is big and shiny and has several things in it he’s not entirely sure how to use yet. The champagne is in the fridge, though, and he grabs the bottle with his spare hand, hip-checks the door closed so it sticks.

“Nice countertops,” Brad says, looking around. “Do you know how to use your coffeemaker yet?”

“I’ll figure it out later,” Vinny says. “Or you can. This is your tour of the kitchen, hope you enjoyed it, now we’re leaving.”

Brad laughs, but lets Vinny lead the way.

Brad's bedroom is big and sunny. Vinny made sure it would get a lot of light. He even put up more PEI shit because he knows how Brad gets homesick, got Mr and Mrs Richards to send him things, like, stealthily. Nice things. Familiar things.

"Is that a lobster trap," Brad says, peering at it.

"Yes," Vinny says. "I'm very thoughtful, your dad agrees with me."

Brad laughs, going over to pull the curtains open, look out at the view. "This is beautiful, Vinny. Is that a - waterfall?"

Vinny grins. "They're like a thing here," he says. "C'mon, this is the not important bedroom. We do have a main event."

Brad blinks at him, comes back and puts his arm around Vinny's waist. "Oh yeah?"

Vinny twirls the bottle of champagne. "You bet." He almost drops it, but manages to recover, and Brad probably doesn’t even notice. Or at least decides not to say anything.

Vinny’s bedroom is right next to Brad’s, he made sure of that. There’s a third one he puts a bed and exercise equipment in, for when people visit, because people always tend to visit. He’d cleaned his room this morning, set everything up just in time to pick Brad up at the airport.

The team had offered to send a cab to do it, but Vinny had blinked and stared and said, “I have a car,” and that was that. They’d gotten to make out in the parking deck for fifteen minutes, too, which shouldn’t have been exciting but still was. Probably will be for a while. Vinny’s allowed to think like that right now.

He opens the door to his bedroom with a flourish- has to let go of Brad’s hand to do so, doesn’t miss the slightly injured look Brad sends him.

Brad stops in the doorway. “Whoa,” he says 

Vinny grins. "Do you like it?"

"Fuck off," Brad says, smacks him in the shoulder and then pushes him up against the wall, kisses him, grinds a little against his thigh. "You motherfucker."

Vinny laughs against his mouth, slips a hand down the back of Brad's pants. "I'll take that as a yes."

"There are fucking candles," Brad says. "You son of a bitch."

"Also rose petals," Vinny says, putting the champagne on the bedside table, between two candles and a vase of roses. "Told your parents I'd take care of you, remember?"

Brad groans. "Not the time, Vincent." He's still looking around at the room, wide-eyed; Vinny can't help feeling gratified. He got up like, two hours early to organise this. And asked Marty for advice. Marty punched him in the side but also bought him the champagne, so. Definitely worth it.

Vinny hands Brad a champagne flute. “Welcome to Tampa,” he says. “I’m really glad you’re here. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Brad echoes, but he’s smiling. Vinny picks up the bottle again and tears at the fancy gold paper covering it before trying to pop the cork. It takes one, two, three tries, and then it’s sailing off, champagne fizzing over his hands.

The cork hits the ceiling and a little bit of plaster flakes off.

“Whoops,” Vinny says, glancing at it, but that’s something to deal with later, and he pours champagne into Brad’s glass even though it’s the middle of the day, pours himself a glass too. “You’re going to light it up,” he says, and clinks their glasses together, takes a sip. “You’re gonna blow everyone’s minds.”

"I'm going to eat a rose petal by accident," Brad says, making a face, but he sips at his flute anyway. "God, you couldn't spring for beer?"

"No," Vinny says, poking his hip. "Special occasion, dumbass."

"You left the lube in an obvious place," Brad says dryly but he's flushed, Vinny can see it. Easy to charm, that's his Brad. "Also you need to light my candles, it's dark as fuck in here."

"I closed the curtains for intimacy," Vinny complains, kissing Brad again, but he drains the rest of his glass, fishes for the lighter and starts lighting. "Fuck, this is a lot of candles."

"Fires are not romantic," Brad says, "just so you know. Remember that time Tyler brought that girl into his dorm room?"

"I'm way smarter than Tyler from boarding school," Vinny says, rolling his eyes. "Don't crush the rose petals, Brad, I threw them around artistically."

He did, actually. To lead up to the bed and shit. Marty was like, _please God stop talking,_ but he did give good advice.

Vinny might not have needed like, quite so many candles, but the sun in Tampa is bright, and Brad’s flight got in a little after eleven. If it had been nighttime it would have been easier to set the atmosphere.

He finishes lighting the last of the candles and pours Brad some more champagne, tops off his  own glass. “There you go,” he says. “Now you can see.”

“By the flickering candlelight,” Brad says.

“Yep,” Vinny tells him, and waits for Brad to put his glass down on the nightstand before he pushes Brad back onto the mattress, probably crushing some rose petals in the process.

Brad makes a noise of complaint before his arms wrap around Vinny’s back, pulling him closer; their legs hook together too.

Vinny kisses him back, closes his eyes. Brad tastes like the admittedly nice champagne, and salt, and _home_ , the two of them here together now, just as it should be.

"Missed you," Brad says, quiet, into Vinny's throat. "This is really nice."

"I know," Vinny says. Kisses him again, pushes his hand under Brad's shirt, up and up. He's so warm, makes all these noises, soft and gasping. Vinny could listen to them forever. "You're welcome."

Vinny doesn't have to open his eyes to know Brad's are rolling, but he can feel Brad hitch against his thigh, feel his interest; Brad's fucking easy for him. That's okay. Vinny's fucking easy for Brad.

Brad bites at his lower lip. "So," he says. "You had a plan?"

Vinny kisses him, licks in, lush and easy. "Yeah," he says. "Settle down, bossy. I know how to congratulate you."

Brad laughs, tangles a hand in Vinny's hair. "Oh really?"

"Yes really," Vinny says, grinding down against Brad for a moment, before pushing himself up to strip Brad's shirt off him, start pulling at Brad's jeans.

“Guess we’re not going slow,” Brad says, lifts his hips so Vinny can yank them down carelessly, discard them on the floor next to his shirt. He narrowly misses a candle, but whatever, it’s fine.

“Nope,” Vinny says, presses a kiss on Brad’s hip before rising to pull his own shirt off, balancing his weight on top of Brad. Brad’s rocking into it, quick sharp movements. It hasn’t even been that long, but this is new, too.

Brad pulls him down when Vinny’s done, big hands over Vinny’s shoulderblades. He rolls them over, Vinny isn’t expecting it, and says, “my turn,” fumbles with Vinny’s belt and fly while Vinny tries not to buck up every time Brad’s hand brushes over the front of his shorts, like they’re still teenagers, which to be fair they haven’t been only for a matter of weeks.

Brad gets his shorts off, laughs at Vinny’s muttered _finally_ and makes sure to stroke over where Vinny’s hard in his underwear, teasing and entirely too slow.

"Come on," Vinny says, surges up and kisses Brad. "This is about you, Brad, let me, come on-" He's got the height advantage, and he knows Brad - it's easy to push, get himself back on top, spread Brad's legs and settle between them.

"You got me here," Brad says, light, "C'mon, don't sell yourself short-" but he settles back, traces his fingers across the back of Vinny's neck. "God, Vinny."

Vinny hums, kisses Brad's stomach, rubs across the cut of his abs. "Been working out, huh?"

"Yeah," Brad says, canting his hips up. "Gotta keep my fancy NHL boyfriend somehow, you know?"

Vinny laughs, bites at his hip. "Yeah," he says, "I've heard those guys are demanding." He curls his hand around Brad's dick, strokes gently.

Brad moans, tosses his head back. "Yeah," he grits out. "Mine's not so bad though. Keeps me in champagne and roses, drives me places."

"Rose petals are fucking expensive," Vinny says, licks over Brad's abs again. "I had to go to a real florist."

"Wow," Brad says. "A real florist." His voice has gone thin, gratifyingly so.

Vinny sucks a mark low on his stomach, kisses it when Brad hisses, sucks in air. "We've got all afternoon," he says. "What do you want first?"

"First?" Brad asks, raises his head so he can peer at Vinny. "I don't even fucking know."

Vinny strokes his dick again, smiles when Brad lets his head fall back and groans. "Yeah," he says. "I mean, I can always blow you to start."

"Oh," Brad says, "to start, really?"

Vinny laughs. "Everyone's always telling me I'm so young, should have so much stamina. You're younger than me, so..." He rubs his thumb along the crown of Brad's dick, just the way he likes it.

"Oh, fuck off," Brad says, but he's breathy, eyes half-lidded. "Come on, Vinny, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Vinny says. Dips his head and takes Brad into his mouth.

God, it hasn't even been long and Vinny still fucking missed him, missed the taste of him, the way Brad jerks against his tongue when Vinny sucks, just a little.

"Vinny," Brad says, hips still, breath harsh. "Oh my god, Vinny, fuck."

Vinny hums, traces his fingers along Brad's hipbones, down and along, for the way Brad trembles, shifting just a little into his mouth. Brad makes the best fucking sounds; Vinny could listen to them all day.

It hasn't gotten old, even though there's a part of him that thought it might, when he made the Lightning and Brad stayed in Rimouski, but all that had done was make him miss Brad more and more until it ached and his long-distance phone bill was verging on absurd from calling Quebec all the damn time.

He's drawing it out, doesn't even realize how much until Brad groans beneath him and says "please."

"Yeah," Vinny breathes out, hot across the head of his dick, smiles when Brad tries to push up towards his mouth. "I got you." He sucks hard at the head then pulls off and kisses the tip, braces himself with an arm across Brad's stomach.

Brad says his name again and Vinny takes more of him in, starts moving in some kind of rhythm. He knows how Brad likes it, knows how to move to make him groan, tip his head back and say Vinny's name, over and over until it doesn't really sound like a word anymore.

"You can," Brad says, sucking in air, "you can- want you to fuck me, Vinny, fuck, c'mon, you can get in me-" His throat's bare, tan against the sheets. He's fisting his hands in the sheets.

Vinny pulls off, kisses the head of Brad's dick, rubs over his balls for the way Brad cries out, soft, and then bites his lip. "You wanna come first, Brad? Tell me what you want, you wanna wait? Don't want it to be too much for you, babe."

Brad raises his head, swallows. Shakes his head a little. "Want to come with your fingers in me," he says, slow and earnest. "You always make it so good, Vinny, fuck. Then I want you to fuck me, and I want you to make me come again. Think you can do that?"

Vinny bites back the surge of arousal in his stomach, hot and heavy. Lets himself grind a little against the sheets. "Yeah, Brad," he says. "Think I can do that."

Brad grins, bright and fierce, Vinny's favourite smile in the whole fucking world. "Okay," he says, reaches down and grabs Vinny's palm, presses the little tube into his hand. "Get to it, then."

“Aren’t you glad I put it in an obvious spot?” Vinny asks him, laughs when Brad groans and pokes him in the shoulder. He remembers when they weren’t as comfortable with each other; acting like they’d thought it might get taken away, had to steal moments, sometimes. He’s glad this is what they have now.

He nudges Brad’s legs apart, traces circles up the insides of his thighs until Brad is shivering, twisting the sheets in his hands. Everything smells like crushed rose petals and a little like candle smoke, like sex, too.

“Vinny,” Brad says, “come on, want your hands, please.”

Vinny knows that Brad has always had a thing for his hands, the past six years. Would watch them during early morning practices, when he would correct Brad’s grip on his stick, once or twice. Vinny kept doing it even when Brad admitted he’d purposefully fucked up so Vinny would touch him, even through hockey gloves, brief bits of contact in the morning before class started.

Six years, fuck.

Vinny kisses Brad’s thigh again, the crease where his leg joins his hip, and slicks up a finger, presses it in, slow.

"Look at you," Vinny hums, kissing Brad's thigh, further in, further up. "God, Brad."

"Come on," Brad says, tense, "pick it the fuck up, Vinny-

"Shh," Vinny says. "So impatient. Don't be in such a rush, hey? I'll get you there." He smirks at Brad, bright and easy. Kisses the base of his dick and then pulls back, mouths, sloppy, at the head

"You're an ass," Brad snaps, hips arching up, "fuck, oh my god-"

Vinny laughs, pushes further in, reaching for-

"Mother of-" Brad snaps, body tense as a live wire, "fuck, come on, oh my god-"

"Yeah," Vinny says, smug. "How's that?"

"Fuck you," Brad says, so fucking fond, yanks a little at Vinny's hair. "Come on, come on-"

“Can give you more,” Vinny says. “That’d get you there, you know it would, how about that?”

“ _Do_ it,” Brad says, “I said- please, Jesus, can you-”

“You’re not making real sentences anymore,” Vinny notes, smirks at how Brad manages to scowl at him before Vinny adds another finger, crooks them up and sucks hard on the head of Brad’s dick, doesn’t do anything but moan when Brad’s hips thrust up hard.

“ _Vinny_ ,” Brad says, and comes, salt-bitter on Vinny’s tongue, straining against the arm Vinny still has on his stomach.

"Yeah," Vinny says, licks him through it gently, just a little too much in the way that Brad likes it, slips another finger in. "Missed that sound, Brad."

Brad clenches his teeth, whines softly. Pulls at Vinny's hair, Vinny's shoulder. "Get up here, asshole."

Vinny laughs, but goes; settles his body heavy across Brad's, the weight of him steady, solid, overwhelming. Once, late at night, Brad told Vinny how much he liked the feeling of it; Vinny's gonna give Brad anything, everything he wants.

"Hi," he says. Breathes across Brad's mouth, just lightly, works his fingers steadily. He can't help grinding a little against Brad's hip. He wants Brad to feel it, how much Vinny wants him.

"You're ridiculous," Brad sighs, kissing him long and loose. "Can't wait for you to get in me."

“Soon,” Vinny says, thrusts his fingers in again for the way Brad moans against his mouth, voice cracking. “You’re almost ready.”

“I’m ready _now_ ,” Brad says, rocks down on Vinny’s fingers. “I’ve been waiting, I was thinking about it the entire plane ride here. You didn’t help, last night you called me and told me everything you were going to do-”

“Yeah,” Vinny says, “and I jerked off to it, you kept moaning my name, it was so fucking good.”

“You were making noise too,” Brad says, and then, “Vinny, fuck, _do_ it.”

Vinny kisses him one more time, scrapes his teeth over Brad’s neck before guiding himself in, slow, his mouth open against Brad’s shoulder.

"Christ," he says. "You feel _so good_ , Brad, fuck, missed this-"  Brad is so tight around him, clenching in little increments as he pushes in, little flutters and tremors, god-

"You're not bad yourself," Brad says, digging his hands into Vinny's back, pulling him closer. "Except for how you won't fucking fuck me, Vinny, I've been waiting-"  
  
The last of it's plaintive, needy; Vinny has to kiss him, nip gently at his lower lip. "Settle down," he murmurs. "No need to get ahead of yourself, love."  
  
Brad rolls his eyes. "You're supposed to be better than the things you sent me," he says. "Please."  
  
"Don't wanna hurt you," Vinny says. "That'd be a hell of a thing to report to training camp, come on." But Brad's loosened up a little and Vinny doesn't think he could even wait that much longer, anyway.

He starts moving, feels how Brad relaxes into it, almost like muscle memory is taking over. Brad’s hands are tight on his back, fingers digging in, and he’s kissing Vinny’s neck, his collarbone, biting down when Vinny snaps his hips hard.

“Fuck,” Brad says, “real thing’s always better, fuck.” He raises his hips, meets Vinny’s thrusts, mouth open and red.

Vinny shifts a little, changes the angle, but Brad feels so good, always does, and it’s getting harder to think anything beyond want and need, harder to focus on anything but moving and the sounds Brad is making, familiar and already so desperate.

He tells Brad that, whispers it in his ear, is rewarded by how Brad clenches down, his eyes fluttering closed.

They’re going to be able to do this all season. It’s fucking magnificent, Vinny thinks.

"Get to do this all the time," Vinny says, drops his hand and rubs across Brad's dick, starting to get hard again. Fucks in steady, hard. "Gonna fuck you after every game you win for us, yeah? Gonna be so good to you." 

Brad laughs, breathless, tosses his head and circles his hips into Vinny's hand, rocks back onto Vinny's dick. "Optimistic," he says.  
  
"Realistic," Vinny counters. "Don't worry, I warned the team already, they had to see all the pictures of us I keep in my wallet. They won't mind if we're loud."  
  
"You're such a fucking asshole," Brad laughs, clenches down hard and surges up, the angle suddenly so fucking good, Vinny has to gasp out, bite down on Brad's shoulder and fuck in hard.  
"Yeah," Vinny says, speeds up, digs his fingers into Brad's side and jacks his dick firmly, "clearly I'm the worst."

“Fuck,” Brad says, “you’re fine, you’re good, keep doing that-”

“Gonna come again?” Vinny asks. “All over yourself? For me?”

“Yeah,” Brad says, hips thrusting up into Vinny’s grip, “yes, fuck.” He tosses his head back, closes his eyes, and Vinny’s so close. It’s been just long enough and he’s riding high on the fact that this can happen tomorrow night, and the next, whenever they want it to. On the road, in hotel rooms where they know they won’t be interrupted if they don’t want to be, not like back in juniors.

“Vinny,” Brad says, “please, wanna feel you.” He angles his head so he can kiss Vinny, sloppy, bite down on his lower lip as Vinny’s hips stutter unevenly, moan caught in his throat.

Brad says his name again and Vinny comes, hard, a long breath escaping his mouth. He collapses on top of Brad’s chest, kisses his jaw and breathes in.

Brad’s hand is in his hair, fingers rubbing down across the nape of his neck. "Vinny," Brad says, gentle. Kisses the top of his head. "Love you."  
  
"You too," Vinny says, breathing out hard. "Just- god, Brad. You're here."  
  
Brad kisses him again, rocks gently into his hand. "Yeah," he says. "You and me, Vinny, I'm not going anywhere now."  
  
"Promise," Vinny says, suddenly it's too much, he has to hear it, has to know Brad is his to keep. This still feels like a dream. He rubs his thumb across Brad's slit, careful.  
  
"Promise," Brad says, catches the side of Vinny's face and kisses his mouth, tender, slow. "You get to keep me." He pauses, pulls back. His eyes are so bright, mouth so red. "Now come on, Vinny. Make me come."

“Gonna keep you forever,” Vinny says easily, loose with it, the orgasm and how solid Brad is underneath him, how _real_. “You’re gonna stay here and we’re going to win, we’re going to get a Cup too-”

“Making big promises,” Brad says, voice strained.

“I’m keeping them,” Vinny says, doesn’t care if that’s reckless, if that’s too much to really say. “I swear.”

“That’s great,” Brad says. “Can you get me off now, though, like-”

Vinny laughs and starts moving his hand steadily, kisses his way down Brad’s neck, his chest. Wants to mark him, like a sign that Vinny was here. He kisses Brad’s mouth instead, bites his lip, catches the sounds.

"Love you," Vinny says, kisses him and keeps kissing, speeds his hand up, swallowing Brad's moans. "Love watching you come. Wanna do it for me now, Brad? Get us all messy?"  
  
Brad groans, kisses Vinny back, hard, and does it, pulsing all over Vinny's hand, dropping his head forward into Vinny's shoulder. "Fuck," he says. "Vinny."  
  
Vinny smiles, kisses his cheek. "Welcome to Tampa," he murmurs. "We hope you enjoy your stay."  
  
Brad thumps him in the shoulder. "Asshole," he says.  
  
"Asshole who's gonna get you a Cup," Vinny says, bright. He can't stop smiling. "Asshole you're stuck with."  
  
Brad grins back at him. "Yeah," he says, pulling Vinny down into the blankets with him, "wow, my life's just the worst."

 

 


End file.
